


A Taste of Honey

by Sookiestark



Series: He Who Tastes Love Never Dines Alone [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Food, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gen, Honey, Love, honey pot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 14:43:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17809922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sookiestark/pseuds/Sookiestark
Summary: A brief glimpse of Jaime and Brienne and a bit of honey before the Battle for Winterfell.





	A Taste of Honey

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story came out of a series about foods that often have been aphrodisiacs or associated with love. Honey is sweet and summery but it is also been associated with love. Anyway, I jumped at writing a Jaime/ Brienne story. Because when I think honey and ASOIAF, I think Jaime and Brienne. The Bear and her Maiden Fair...

It was cold here at Winterfell. Jaime Lannister was colder than he had ever been in his entire life. It was a bitter aching cold that numbed his body. It was so cold that men struggled to go outside and do their turns at guarding the walls. Men could only stay out there a short time and when they came in they were exhausted from exposure to the cold. To add to the cold, it seemed the biggest blizzard that had ever fallen on Westeros was happening over Winterfell, presently. With the storm and the long hours of winter's night, it seemed the sky never brightened. He wasn’t really sure how he had made it up the long road to Winterfell, but he had. Of course, since he had left King’s Landing, he swore he had not seen the sun.

When he had first arrived at Winterfell, Brienne and some servants had shown him to this room. They had brought hot water so he could wash, fresh clothes, warm blankets. He had reached for her arm but she had moved out of his grasp. Jaime had heard the exhaustion in his voice, "I would like to speak to you." "Perhaps later, Ser Jaime," is what she had said. The servants had laid out a large bowl of chicken stew and a small loaf of dark bread. There had been a pot of tea with a small jar of honey. Jaime had quickly eaten the soup and drank the tea with some of the honey. When the servants had come to clean the plates away, the small pot of honey had been left. Jaime had thought to remind someone to come and collect it, but he had been preoccupied. He had not eaten in his room after that first night. Instead, he ate downstairs in the Great Hall. He needed the company as his thoughts were growing grim.

Since his arrival at Winterfell, Jaime Lannister had been experiencing plenty of uncomfortable feelings, from awkward embarrassment to a wave of raging anger to a feeling of sorrow that he could not shake. One of the few pleasant feelings he had had was during his reunion with his brother and his reunion with Brienne. He had not expected the feeling of pleasant surprise he felt when he first saw her. Brienne had made no motion to talk to him or even notice him. In fact, she had been busy practicing and watching over Lady Sansa. Before when he had been in her company, Brienne's eyes had always followed him. Jaime could remember the weight of her gaze and the heaviness in her longing. Jaime had come to expect it when he was in her company. He had thought they always would follow him. 

However, since he had arrived here at Winterfell, Brienne’s gaze did not track him. He could not see any trace of her devotion to him that used to be so apparent. At first, he had shrugged it off. After all, he had spurned her and her cause in the Dragonpit. It bothered him that she no longer seemed to hold him in high regard. Jaime reassured himself that Brienne was angry but she would come around to him. Soon enough, her eyes would be warm and soft again when she looked at him.

Yet after all the days in this frozen hell, she had not come around to him. She had not softened up. 

This morning, Lord Jon Snow had called him to the ramparts. Jaime could not tell where he stepped or what direction he was facing because the snowstorm was raging so fiercely. But Jaime had followed him out on the ramparts nonetheless. Almost as soon as they walked out, the strangest thing had happened. The storm stopped, completely in a moment. Suddenly fear knotted in Jaime's stomach for two reasons. One the storm that was battering Winterfell was being controlled by someone or something who could turn it on and off at will. Whoever controlled it had wanted a better glance at the once- King-in-the- North. The second reason fear clenched him was about five hundred yards from Winterfell. Just where the tree line was, Jaime and Jon watched an army of thousands, maybe tens of thousands, gather. However, this army was an army made up of rotting dead soldiers. Jaime and Jon stood there for only a moment and saw the vastness of the threat. It took Jaime’s breath away, There was no hope to stand against such a foe. Then as quickly it had stopped, the snowstorm swirled to life with double the force, hiding the foe with this infernal blizzard.

Following Jon, he had walked back into the keep, stomping their boots. Already, the men who had been out on the walk with them began to whisper about the overwhelming odds and how surely, when the enemy attacked they would all be dead. Just more soldiers for the army of Others. 

Jon had looked at him in the hallway. Jaime had looked at the man and could not think of a single thing to say. Jon spoke, “When the storm stops, they will attack. Be ready, Lord Commander.”

In an instant, Jon left a blur of black fur and black leather. 

Jaime went back to his rooms. Some men went to drink up the stores of wine at Winterfell. Some went to find a kitchen maid. Jaime went back to his small room. Earlier in that morning, Jaime had looked at the honey left on the table. Exhausted, he had thought a small taste of the sweetness might cheer him up. When he had lifted the lid, it had been so cold in his room from the winter storms and frigid air that the honey has crystallized in the cold." 

Before he had left his room, he had gently put the honey near the hearth in his room, hoping the fire might warm it up and not ruin it.

Coming back to his room alone, he had seen the small ceramic pot and smiled. Lifting it from the stones, Jaime noticed in the firelight that the crystals had melted and the honey was a warm soft gold. 

Laughing, Jaime had spoken to himself, "You will be my company before battle. I never could resist golden hair." 

Almost as if she had read his mind, he heard a knock on the door and Brienne's voice. "Ser Jaime..?" 

Opening the door, Brienne was there, awkward and restless. "Come in," he said.

She stood there uncomfortable, looking at him with her over big eyes but she said nothing. Jaime smiled because he understood honor, loyalty, and pride. Jaime was just glad she had come, finally. 

Jaime spoke, "I am glad you came. Do not worry. I understand. I am glad you have come. I have something and I wanted to share with you. It's not much but.." 

Brienne blinks at him as he shows her the pot. She takes it from him and inspects it. Brienne speaks in disbelief, handing it back to him. "It is just a honey pot." 

Jaime thinks about all the things he could say to her about love and loyalty. He thinks he would like to lie to her, to seduce her, to disarm her with sweet words. He looks at her and thinks better of saying any grand gestures.

Instead, Jaime takes his finger and slowly puts it in the small pot. In the firelight, Brienne watches him press into the golden sticky substance. Her gaze never leaves his fingers and no words are spoken. Her deep blue eyes connect to his lips as they closed over the tip of his index finger. The sugar explodes on his tongue and forced a smile on his lips. 

"Taste it," he said. "It is so good." 

It tasted like warm nights and promises of youth. It tasted like peach wine the Crakehalls would make or the night after he was knighted by Ser Arthur Dayne. It tasted like the morning porridge at Harrenhal after he had bedded Cersei the first time. It tasted like when he had given Brienne Oathkeeper or when he saw her still alive at Riverrun. 

He held the small pot of honey to her and she looked at him. She shrugged her shoulders asking how she would access the yellow treat. For a brief second, he had an image of her sticking her tongue in the pot and licking it like a bear might. He imagined the stickiness on her lips and cheeks and how it would taste if he kissed her.

The image affected him. Jaime felt his voice crack when he spoke. "Use your finger..."

Almost blushing, she stuck her finger in the pot, so deep, the honey threatened to flow over the sides and drip on the floor. 

His gaze never wavered and when she stuck her finger in her mouth, he involuntarily licked his lips. The weight of this gesture made her skin burn and she felt her face flush. He could tell she savored it. He wondered what memories it brought up; of her childhood on Tarth, of Renly and his kindness, of Lady Catelyn. Did any of her sweet memories include him? 

She smiles and he sees that she is lost in her own memories. She smiles and he knows without speaking. He is….

Brienne whispers to him, "Thank you." 

She is closer than she has ever been and he reaches out to kiss her. 

Suddenly, the warning bell is ringing, She looks at him and she is gone to protect Lady Sansa. He puts the pot down and leaves to faces the overwhelming army and the unbearable, dark, cold night with the hint of honey on his tongue. 


End file.
